Chasing Chickens

When I went back to the cyber world after the death of my brother, I vowed that I will make a blog post every 16th of the month until his first year anniversary. It's just my simple tribute to the stubborn guy with a good heart. But instead of posting my laments of his passing, I decided to start posting happy memories of him. Though the pain is still fresh, I think it's about time for me to accept the fact that he is gone and start moving forward but will glance back from time to time to the happy memories I had with him.

This one is about one of the things he's passionate about - chickens! When we were young, our mother often takes us with her every time she visits the farm. In there, we would usually play and take a bath in the artesian well during planting time or watch people harvest crops during harvest time. My brother is not one of the kids who would tumble and play in the hay, fly kites in the field or climb trees. Instead, he would often raid our caretaker's chicken coop to check for some chicks he can bring home. Even if the chicken is at the farthest branch of the tallest tree in the area or in the innermost part of the hut, if he decided that he wants that particular creature, he will surely do everything just to get it. He even cries to our mother if he cannot get what he wants.

To spare him from more troubles in catching the chickens, our caretakers decided to keep their best chicks in the coop so that if we'll go there, he'll never have to go through lots of chasing to get what he wanted. I am not sure how many chickens he brought home over the years but one thing I am sure of, he still cares about his chickens wherever he is right now. One of his friends (whom he entrusted some of his chickens) told us that a few days before their supposed cockfight (during his wake), something is weird going on where the chickens are kept. Before they went to sleep, they covered the cage with cloth probably to protect the chicken from cold. But when they woke up the next morning, the cloth is no longer how they left it. It has already been drawn just like the way they’re doing it every morning. It happens two days in a row they said. Another friend also dreamt about him asking about the chicken he gave to that friend.

As of this time, my mother has started to give away or sell his chickens but left a few so as not to totally get rid of his memories. The remaining chickens are cared for by my mother's spinster cousin who has been with us for as long as I can remember. He is even crying when he fed the chicken a few days after my brother's death.

I just hope that there would be cockfighting and TV shows specifically about chickens (he used to watch shows on cable and videos on YouTube) wherever he is right now so that he will be having a blast even in life after death.

(Note: This was supposed to be posted yesterday, 5 months after his death, but I wasn't able to do so because I felt sick.)

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